


A Fleet Week Fling

by Kimikochan



Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 10:21:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7614328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimikochan/pseuds/Kimikochan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Veronica considers a course correction after a chance encounter and a steamy affair with a handsome sailor during Fleet Week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fleet Week Fling

**Author's Note:**

> Written for vm fics and vm headquarters July Summer Lovin’ Fic Challenge.

 

“Veronica Mars!”

The slender blonde studying her image in the full-length mirror startled at the sound of her name. Rolling her eyes, she turned and greeted her roommate with amused exasperation.

“Do you mind? I’m primping here.”

“Sweetie, you’re gonna have to do a lot more than primp. You cannot go out looking like that.” Christina Woo stood in the doorway of Veronica’s tiny bedroom, arms akimbo, a mildly horrified expression on her face as she looked her friend up and down.

Veronica turned back to the mirror. “What’s wrong with how I look?”

She was wearing a navy blue pin-striped blouse over dark, skinny jeans and black ballet flats. Her pale locks were pulled back into a tight ponytail, wispy bangs framed her face and she’d even taken pains to apply a light smattering of makeup - eyeshadow and light pink lipgloss.

“It’s Fleet Week, Veronica,” Christina intoned. “We are going out to a bar to meet hot, virile men. You look like a starving law student who hasn’t left the library all year.”

“I _am_ a starving law student.”

But the young Asian woman was already rummaging through Veronica’s closet. She skipped over an array of conservative sweaters and tops before thrusting something shimmery at her.

“And I’m in my third year of med school. That doesn’t mean I have to look it,” Christina said as she examined her friend’s shoe collection. “You’re a camel - you’ve made that clear. I, however, am not. I haven’t had a boyfriend in over a year, and there are zero prospects. I need to get laid.”

She glanced at Veronica. “So do you, actually, but we both know that ain’t happening. Here - wear these.”

Veronica looked down at the strappy, black high heels and rolled her eyes again. “So I should look like a hooker? Remind me again, why do I have to go?”

“Strength in numbers.”

Christina breezed out, leaving Veronica alone to change. She sighed and began unbuttoning her blouse.

It had been a rough semester. She was nearly halfway through Columbia law school, and she’d taken on a heavy load of classes. The coursework - mostly involving an endless minutiae of corporate regulations and tax laws - had been difficult to get through because it was so mind-numbingly tedious.

But she’d also taken a criminal law class that proved interesting, even if it did mean getting a little too caught up in one of her professor’s on-going cases.

Beth Mason, 17-year-old girl from the Upper East Side, had been found strangled in her bedroom late last year. Her ex-boyfriend, the teenage son of a media tycoon, was arrested two weeks later and subsequently released on bail. Since money was no object, Jason Murdoch’s family had spared no expense and hired Michael Feinman, whose near perfect win record had garnered an endless stream of clients and a professorship at the prestigious Columbia School of Law.

A few weeks into the semester, Feinman had called Veronica into his office and asked if she wanted to join a select group of students helping with the case.

“I heard about you. I had my associates look into you, and I know about your work with your father,” Feinman had said, when she’d hesitated. “I think your perspective could be useful to my team, and you’d learn a lot, get a sense for criminal law. I have a feeling it’s right up your alley.”

She had been assigned fairly menial duties as befitting a second-year law student - filing paperwork with the court, researching case law and some basic fact-checking. She’d even uncovered a few inconsistencies with the prosecutor’s purported timeline of the murder.

It had been years since Veronica had flexed her investigative muscles, and it was like awakening a part of herself she’d almost, but not quite, forgotten.

The work had been fascinating, but the more time she’d spent around the cadre of defense attorneys, hell bent on gaining acquittal for their client, the more uneasy she became. She was learning the judicial system was like a high-stakes game of chess rather than a quest for the truth, and she found that vaguely unsettling.

It didn’t help that the victim bore a striking resemblance - in body and spirit - to Lilly Kane.

Veronica put on the maroon silk blouse Christina had given her, hesitating a moment before leaving the top three buttons unfastened. She pulled out the hair tie and shook her head so her tresses fell in long waves over her shoulders, then slid into a pair of black gladiator heels that were slightly more comfortable than the stilettos her roommate had chosen.

“You’ll thank me later,” Christina said, eyeing her friend up and down approvingly. “When a tall, handsome sailor sweeps you off your feet and boinks your brains out.”

“There will be no boinking.”

“Never say never, Veronica.”

Ten minutes later, the two women were riding in a cab headed toward a hotel bar near the hub of Fleet Week activities. “Serena and Maya are meeting us there,” Christina said, applying a deep red lipstick.

Veronica had known Christina and the other women ever since she’d moved to New York after graduating from Stanford. They’d all worked together at a cafe near campus, and Veronica had immediately liked the third-generation Chinese American from San Francisco.

The roommates shared a similar nature. They were both intelligent and driven with plenty of sass. They even looked alike - petite and slim with long hair, wispy bangs and expressive, heart-shaped faces. People often said they could pass for sisters, if Veronica were Chinese.

Unlike Veronica, however, Christina was capable of letting her hair down and having fun once in awhile.

“You need a night out on the town. You’ve been in a funk ever since you got back from California. Did something happen?”

Veronica gazed out the window at the passing buildings and shrugged. “I ran into somebody I used to know.”

She’d gone home over a long weekend to visit her dad and get in a little sun and relaxation. On her last day, she and Mac had treated themselves to a mani/pedi followed by drinks at a restaurant on the marina, where they’d bumped into Madison Sinclair.

“How’s Logan?” the catty socialite had asked in her bitchiest tone. “Oh, I forgot, you two aren’t speaking. He’s been hooking up with Carrie Bishop. Guess Bonnie DeVille likes performing for the troops, eh?”

Veronica hadn’t spoken to Logan since the day he’d beaten Gory Sorokin in the Hearst cafeteria. She’d left Neptune without so much as a goodbye, and she’d never been able to bring herself to contact him - no matter how much she’d missed him. She’d packed him away like an old sweater, and all these years later, she’d almost convinced herself she no longer cared.

It didn’t mean she wanted to get news of Logan from the tramp he’d screwed in Aspen.

“What was Madison talking about?” Mac had asked, after their margaritas were served.

“I have no idea,” she’d answered.

Logan had managed to stay out of the limelight, avoiding trouble and the tabloids, as far as Veronica could tell, though she hadn’t looked too closely. She knew, of course, that all she had to do was dig a little, maybe utilize her dad’s P.I. license, unbeknownst to him, and all would be revealed, but she’d been reluctant to poke that hornet’s nest. She’d built a new life for herself, free from drama, mayhem and heartache, and just maybe he had, too.

But in the weeks since she’d returned, Veronica had come to realize she not only still missed Logan, but she’d made a terrible mistake all those years ago.

She pulled out her phone, scrolling to his name on her contacts list. Her finger hovered over it for several long seconds before she quickly tapped out a text:

      _Haven’t seen you in seven years, that’s like a week. So, how are you?_

She held her breath and thumbed the “send” button before she could change her mind.

The cab stopped in front of a swanky, ultra modern hotel across from the waterfront, where several ships were docked for the annual celebration of U.S. Navy, Coast Guard and Marine service men and women. They paid their fare and stepped out onto a sidewalk crowded with men in uniform.

After making their way into the bar, Veronica and Christina quickly located their other friends, who were already cozying up to a Coast Guard captain and Navy ensign. Christina ordered a round of tequila shots, and after making Veronica down hers, she went in search of an officer of her own.

An hour and two drinks later, Veronica found herself alone, leaning against a metal pillar and checking her phone. No reply from Logan. _What do you expect, Veronica? You’ve been radio silent for more than six years, and you can’t give him a few hours?_ She didn’t even know if she still had the right number.

She started flipping through her phone for the Uber app. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of white moving deliberately through the crowd and stopping directly in front of her.

“Scram, sailor boy. I’m busy,” she said, not bothering to look up.

“Let me guess,” said a voice, warm and familiar. “You’re working on a case.”

Veronica’s head jerked up, and she stared in stunned silence. _Logan_ had materialized right before her eyes - _in disguise_. He stood tall and ramrod straight in a sparkling, white Navy uniform with red, blue and yellow bars decorating the lapel and gold wings perched on his chest.

He was thinner, but finely chiseled in all the right places judging from the sharper edges of his jaw and cheekbones and what she could see of the toned body beneath the uniform. His brown eyes were friendly, but guarded, and he was smiling hesitantly, the ghost of a smirk hovering on his lips.

Maybe it was the tequila. Or just the shock of seeing him when he’d been on her mind so much lately. Maybe it was the fact that he looked _amazing_. Veronica didn’t think. She launched herself at him, grasping his neck and pulling him down, her mouth crashing into his.

Logan stumbled, momentarily caught off guard, but true to form, he recovered quickly. Steadying them both, he pulled her against him, holding her tightly as he kissed her back.

It was like coming home. Logan still kissed the same, tasted the same, smelled the same, and Veronica’s body responded the way it always had. When they finally broke apart for air, he smiled crookedly. “Does this mean you’re happy to see me?”

Veronica grinned back, and spoke to him for the first time in more than six years. “We need to get a room.”

Logan’s jaw dropped in surprise, and he chuckled nervously. “Uh, just how many drinks have you had?”

But she was already leading him by the hand through the throng of people. They’d almost reached the exit, when someone called her name, and they both turned. Christina was stalking toward them, a questioning look on her face.

“Veronica, where are you going?” She glanced at Logan, then back at her friend. “Hi, I’m Christina, and you are…?”

Logan extended his hand and started to introduce himself, but Veronica cut him off. “This is … oh, sorry, what did you say your name was again? Trey?”

He looked at her quizzically, one brow quirked, but he turned his most disarming smile on Christina. “It’s Troy, actually. Lt. Troy Vandergraff at your service.”

“Right,” Veronica said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. She grabbed his hand and began pulling him towards the door. “ _Troy_ is going to give me a tour of his boat. I’ll see you later.”

“Wait a sec. Troy … don’t I know you?” Christina started to say.

But Logan and Veronica had already disappeared through the double doors.

The hotel lobby bustled with uniformed personnel enjoying their shore leave and civilian Fleet Week revelers. Hand in hand, Logan and Veronica made their way to the concierge desk, where they waited in line, touching and stealing kisses. He bent his head to nuzzle her neck, and whispered, “Care to tell me why I had to pretend I don’t know you?”

She suppressed a shiver, smiling against his cheek. “Do you have any idea how much street cred this little liaison is getting me? Through the roof.”

“So you _are_ working on a case.”

“What are you talking about?”

Logan pulled away and kissed her nose. “It’s been a while, but it’s starting to come back to me, and that was a classic Veronica Mars hedge, albeit cleverly disguised as banter. So, what’s the deal? You trying to get a wire into a room?”

“I’m trying to get _you_ into a room,” Veronica moaned, grasping the lapels of his shirt. “Who knew it would be so hard?”

His eyes widened in amusement. He opened his mouth to say something, but she silenced his snark with a kiss. She broke away first, flashing him a smug smile. “You think you know me so well Mr. Smarty Pants, but I’m telling you, there is no case.

“I just never told my friends about you - they’re brilliant, but they devour tabloids like potato chips. It seemed more expedient to let them think I picked up a stranger than explaining I used to date _Logan Echolls_.”

He studied her for a moment and smiled slowly. “That’s _Lieutenant_ Smarty Pants,” he drawled, kissing her again. A few minutes later, it was their turn in line. Logan quickly paid for the room, and they were soon alone in an elevator. They couldn’t keep their hands - or lips - off each other, and for once, Veronica didn’t give a damn about the consequences.

They were still kissing when the elevator door slid open with a ding, and they remained lip-locked as Logan led her into the hallway, grasping her waist and somehow locating their room. He pulled away to unlock the door, hesitating just as the card key light turned green. “Veronica, are you sure you want to do this?”

She smiled, her eyes flashing with a heady mixture of lust and tenderness. “Yes,” she said, shoving him through the door.

That’s when Veronica realized two things: Logan had rented a suite, and they weren’t going to make it to the bedroom.

Afterwards, they lay naked and breathless on the carpeted floor, limbs entwined. She rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat gradually slow while he caressed her arm. He kissed the top of her head, and she smiled, tightening her arms around his waist.

“So...what’s with the sailor outfit?” she asked, propping herself up on her elbow to  see his face. “You didn’t rent it just to get laid, did you?”

He scoffed. “No. But I had Siri take a note: uniform, fastest way to get Veronica Mars in bed.”

Nudging him, she savored the rumbling sound of his chuckle, before continuing. “Seriously, Logan - the Navy? How did that happen?”

He stilled. “The Navy helped me get my act together. Grow up, and all that.”

“I’m sensing there’s more to the story.”

“There’s the Veronica I remember - always digging.” He smiled crookedly, and finally met her gaze. “Another time? I’m not going to lie to you, it’s not pretty. Can we just say, I’m a bonafide contributing member of society and leave it at that for now?”

She nodded slowly, swallowing back a prickle of fear. “So what do you do? File papers? Count ships?”

“Not exactly. I’m a pilot - I fly fighter jets.”

Veronica gaped and let out a shaky laugh. “Of _course_ you do. I - I had no idea…That’s amazing, Logan. Really. You should be proud of yourself.”

He reached out and pulled her down to him, kissing her gently at first, then deepening it as their desire grew. She revelled in the familiar thrill of his touch - the way his hands unerringly found the places that drove her wild, and how he seemingly remembered the exact spot on her neck that always made her shiver.

Abruptly, she broke away and got to her feet, making her way towards the double doors that led to the bedroom. And since it was Logan, she didn’t feel the least bit self-conscious about being naked.

She turned, looking over her shoulder, to find him sitting up and leaning against the wall. “Just enjoying the view,” he said, smiling softly.

Veronica held out her hand, which he took, standing and pulling her to him. They kissed again, and Logan led them through the doors into the bedroom.

The second time was slower - much slower - and Veronica had nearly screamed in frustration as Logan painstakingly teased every inch of her until she’d finally pushed him onto his back and took over. They fell asleep spooning, and as she drifted off, she felt more content than she had in years.

Several hours later, she woke up to the unfamiliar cacophony of sirens, horns and other city noises wafting in through an open window from the street below. Restless, she carefully extricated herself from Logan’s arms and slid out of bed. A white hotel robe lay neatly draped over a chair, so she grabbed it and put it on as she made her way into the living area.

In her haste to have Logan, she hadn’t taken the time to notice her surroundings. The suite was enormous - the living area alone was larger than her entire Brooklyn apartment. Everything was sleek and modern, with straight, clean lines done up in metal and stone all in hushed tones of grey and lavender. There was a wide, plush couch in the center of the room and a glass dining table set for four near the bar.

In the background, New York City stood glittering against the night sky, perfectly displayed by floor to ceiling windows that stretched the entire width of the suite. She leaned against the glass and peered down below at the ships in the harbor, wondering which one was Logan’s.

She’d tried to forget him, but he’d never been far from her thoughts. Over the years, she’d wondered whether he’d finished school, what he’d made of his life, if he was happy. From the sound of things, he hadn’t been - at least not at first - but never in a million years would she have guessed he’d join the Navy. She should have known - and she would have -  if she’d bothered to answer any of his emails.

“Hey.” Logan’s low mumble broke into her thoughts as he came up behind her. He was wearing white boxers, and his short hair was rumpled. He embraced her from behind, planting a gentle kiss on her temple. “You okay? You look lost in thought.”

“I was just looking at the boats and wondering which one was yours.”

He glanced down at the water below. “Those little things bobbing around are boats _._ The aircraft carrier I’m assigned to is a big-ass _ship_ , and it’s out there, on Pier 91,” he said, pointing off in the distance.

Grinning, she turned. “Hey. Is your ship open to the public? I heard there are tours.”

“Yeah. I actually have to work a shift in a couple of days … make that tomorrow. Why? Do you want a tour?”

She nodded, flattening her hands on his chest. “I think I need to see Lt. Echolls in his element before I can truly believe it.”

Absently, her hands roamed his bare skin until she felt the smooth ridges of a scar just below his collarbone close to his right shoulder. She frowned in the dim light, and looked at the jagged, two-inch line of pale skin.

“This one’s new. How’d you get it?”

He shrugged. “It was just a work accident. We were running drills, and I fell off one of the towers. Landed on some metal scraps.”

Her heart constricted with an all-too familiar anxiety. “You didn’t have enough scars before, Logan?” she asked with a sigh.

“Yeah, but this was the first one I got in the line of duty.”

His tone was light, but there was a note of pride, and she suddenly understood being a Navy pilot gave him a fulfillment he’d probably never experienced before. The boy who’d smashed headlights, gotten into brawls and organized bumfights now defended the country by flying jets all over the world.

“Just how dangerous is your work?”

Logan shrugged. “Not that dangerous. It’s not like I’m fighting on the ground.”

“But you fly in war zones?”

“Well, I fly a fighter jet, so yes.”

She sighed again, wrapping her arms around his middle in a fierce hug. “Promise me you’ll be careful, Logan.”

“I promise,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head as he hugged her back.

The embrace was more tender than titillating, and after two vigorous and highly satisfying rounds, she thought her libido had been put to bed for the evening so to speak. But she could feel the heat of his body even through the thick cotton robe, and when she looked up, Veronica could see the same desire mirrored in his eyes.

He tugged on the belt of her robe, gently sliding it off her shoulders so it puddled on the floor by her feet. She clung to his neck as he bent to kiss her, his hands straying down her back until they cupped her ass. With a groan, she felt Logan lift her and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he backed her up against the glass window.

Dimly Veronica thought of the perfectly good bed that was going to waste, until Logan proved once again they really didn’t need one.

This time they stayed awake watching the sun rise over the New York skyline. She was tucked in the nook of his arm, wrapped in the robe, her head resting on his shoulder. The boxers were back on, and Logan had retrieved his white undershirt from where she’d flung it the night before.

Too lethargic to even make their way back to the bedroom, Logan had pulled a few cushions off the couch, and they’d sat on the floor, leaning against a metal pillar, as she peppered him with questions about life onboard an aircraft carrier and laughed over his exploits in Officer Candidate School.

“So, what’s new with you?” he asked her.

She told him her dad had bought a small bungalow not far from their old apartment a few years ago, and that he still ran Mars Investigations, but it had relocated to a warehouse-turned-office space near Skid Row. Logan murmured noises of interest, but she got the feeling none of the information was news to him.

“How’s law school?”

She started to give the standard tough-but-challenging speech, then realized something was wrong. “Wait. How’d you know I’m in law school?”

“Dick showed me a picture on Facebook,” he answered.

“I’m not on Facebook.”

“No, but Mac is. She posted a photo of you two at Columbia.”

Veronica knew the picture instantly. Wallace and Mac had visited during his spring break more than a year ago, and he’d snapped a shot of them standing in front of Columbia’s domed library.

She turned and looked at him. “So you knew I was in New York.” Logan nodded, but said nothing. “Were you going to call me?”

He looked away, shaking his head. “I thought about it. But it’s been years … I don’t have your number … and I honestly didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

Veronica remembered the hesitant smile he’d flashed her in the bar, and her heart constricted.

“I couldn’t believe it was you at first … ” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “... and then I couldn’t _not_ say hi.”

Not for the first time that night, she wished she hadn’t let so many years go by without so much as an email between them. “I’m really glad you did,” she said, quietly. “About those years …”

“...Bygones.” He smiled softly, gently brushing her cheek with his thumb.

They settled into a comfortable silence, and Veronica couldn’t help thinking how easy it was to be with Logan again. They’d fallen back into step as if those missing years had never happened. But it had always been easy when it was just the two of them - no navigating around vaguely disapproving friends or an overprotective father, no Neptune warfare to survive or past betrayals to forgive.

It had always been easy to love Logan. It was staying with him that proved too hard.

“So why law school? Does it give you an edge with the FBI, or are you planning to work with your dad as a one-stop-shop deal?” he asked, breaking into her thoughts. “Like Neptune’s own Batman and Robin.”

When she didn’t respond, he shifted so he could study her face, but she looked away with a shrug. “I don’t really do that anymore.”

His brows raised in surprise. “That explains the crime rate in this city. So - why?”

“People got hurt because of what I did.”

“Is that why you left Neptune?”

She nodded, finally meeting his gaze. “I needed a clean break,” she said, hoping he’d understand.

But Logan just frowned. “If you’re not spying on cheating spouses, or getting guys like me off murder charges, what do you do with all your free time?”

She slugged his shoulder, and they both laughed. “Would you believe, standing in line for cronuts?”

“Yes, I would.”

“Well … if we hurry, and don’t get _distracted_ , we could try out that incredible-looking shower and still have time to nab the last few cronuts,” she wheedled.

Twenty minutes later, they were heading out the door, freshly showered and dressed in the previous night’s clothes, when Veronica suddenly stopped in her tracks.

“Wait. Mac and Dick are Facebook friends? How did I not know that?”

“Uh, because you’re not on Facebook?”

**********

Later, they sat on a wrought iron bench under the bakery’s bright yellow awning, sipping coffee and chewing on the crisp, sugary pastries. In between bites, they continued catching up on each other’s lives.

She filled him in on the Stanford years, and he’d chuckled at her description of a psych professor who shuffled his feet so by the end of the lecture he’d travelled from one end of the room to the other. He in turn regaled her with a tale about his shipmate’s scheme to get even with a surly commanding officer by sneaking dog food into his beef stew.

When she told him Backup had died, curled up at her feet at the ripe old age of 15, he pretended not to notice the quiver in her voice, or how she sheepishly brushed away a tear.

By then it was nearly 8 o’clock and the sidewalk was starting to fill with busy city dwellers rushing to work, walking their dogs or going for a morning run. Just then, Logan’s phone chirped, and he pulled it out, frowning as he looked at the display.

“Crap, I forgot I was supposed to be somewhere. I’ve just got to make a call. Be right back.”

She stood, taking his cup. “Stay. I’ll go get us refills.” As she pushed open the bakery door, the name “Carrie” drifted within earshot, and her jaw clenched involuntarily. She waited in line and watched him through the window. He was standing with his back to her, head bowed as he rubbed his neck.

She’d intended to surreptitiously observe Logan’s phone conversation, but found herself admiring the way his crisp, white uniform clung to his body, accentuating his tall, lean frame and well-toned arms. Her eyes drifted downward to his ass and her cheeks grew hot as she suddenly remembered how the hard muscles felt under her hands.

He hung up a few moments later, and she quickly looked away as he turned and glanced inside. When she returned to their bench, she handed him his coffee and sat down. “Do you have to go?” she asked, straining to sound ambivalent.

“Nah. I just had to let someone know I was going to be a no show,” he replied, sitting next to her.

Carefully sipping the steaming liquid, she kept her gaze focussed on the rim of her cup. “Carrie? As in Carrie Bishop?”

Logan let out a choked laugh as he looked at her. “Same old Veronica. You can take the girl out of Neptune, but …” He sighed. “How did you…?”

She shrugged noncommittally. “Someone told me you two had hooked up.”

“Someone?”

“I don’t remember where I heard it,” she lied, avoiding his eyes.

He peered at her, but said nothing. “Okay. Well, it’s not a big deal. We hung out a little the last time I had shore duty. Dick threw me birthday party, and she was there. We hit it off.”

“Translation - you’re sleeping with her.” Veronica knew it was irrational to be angry when she’d stormed back into his life less than 12 hours ago after years of pretending he didn’t exist. She had no right to be jealous, but she was seldom rational when it came to Logan.

She took a breath and raised her eyes to his. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s none of my business.”

Logan studied her with more than a little trepidation, trying to choose his words carefully, and she could almost hear his low mumble from a lifetime ago. _Land mine._ They’d fallen into their old pattern again; he evades and she goes in for the kill, wresting the truth from him no matter the consequences.

“It was just a one-time thing. She was going on tour, and I was deploying, but we stayed in touched.”

“Isn’t she performing in Central Park today?”

“Yeah, and she invited me. But I blew it off to get cronuts with this hot blonde I met in a bar last night.”

Veronica smiled, instantly and utterly charmed. “You turned down a date with _Bonnie DeVille_ to have breakfast with little ol’ me?”

Logan leaned close, his forehead nearly touching hers. “Come on, Veronica,” he whispered. “You know it wasn’t just breakfast - it was _cronuts_.”

She kissed him. It was just a quick peck on the lips, but somehow the tender impulse was just as intimate as their most impassioned liplocks. Logan reached up and brushed her hair from her face, kissing the tip of her nose.

“Alright you two, just stop right there.” An irritated female voice jolted them out of their reverie. “It’s way too early for that sappy stuff.”

Christina stood in front them, arms crossed, her hard stare fixed on Veronica.

 “Phone Tracker,” Christina said, brandishing her iPhone before Veronica could ask the question. “Which I wouldn’t have needed, if you’d bothered to answer your texts.”

“I’m having the weirdest deja vu right now,” Logan mumbled.

Veronica’s roommate turned her blazing stare on him. “Troy Vanderbilt my _ass_! I knew I recognized you. You’re Logan Echolls. Of Neptune. Where, coincidentally, Veronica grew up. In fact, according to People.com, you two used to date.”

She paused to give them a smug smile. “Yeah, I learned a thing or two living with Nancy Drew over here. This wasn’t a one night stand with a random flyboy during Fleet Week. It was a rendezvous with an old flame.”

Logan leaned back and rubbed his chin dramatically. “You remind me of someone. Nope. Can’t think who.” He held out the pastry box. “Cronut?”

Grudgingly, she took the proffered treat. Logan wedged himself into a corner of the bench, draping his arm along the back, and Veronica scooted closer to him to make room for Christina.

“I was worried because the idea of her having a fling with a guy she’d just met is so un-Veronica, you know? And you did have a very adamant no-boinking policy,” Christina said between bites. “So I did a little digging on-line last night, and once I realized you knew him, I felt a lot better.

“But when I woke up and you still weren’t home, I freaked. You don’t have the greatest rep, _Troy_. So I activated Phone Tracker.”

“Are you just handing out tracers to friends, now?” he asked Veronica.

“No, of course not. There’s an app for that now, silly,” she answered. “Christina and I downloaded it just as a precaution. Two single ladies in the big bad city can never been too safe.”

Veronica turned to her roommate. “I’m sorry I worried you. I forgot I muted my phone.”

“Yeah, well, you’d better check your messages. Piz stopped by this morning.”

Logan looked at Veronica sharply. “You’re still in touch with Piz?”

She shrugged. “Not really. Sort of, I guess,” she hedged, defensively, suddenly uncomfortable as Christina and Logan stared at her. “He and Wallace are still close, and he lives in New York now, so I see him sometimes when Wallace is in town.”

Logan said nothing, as if processing the information. “We’re not dating, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Veronica clarified. “He had a work thing on campus today, and we were, maybe, going to meet for coffee.”

She flashed him a pointed look. “But I blew it off to get cronuts with this hot sailor I picked up last night.”

That produced an instant smirk. “I _am_ pretty irresistible.”

“Eh. The cronuts were better.”

“That’s not what you said last night … and again this morning.”

She nudged him in the ribs, but they both laughed gazing at each other, and for a moment it was as if they were the only ones there.

“Well, there’s another mystery solved. If you two are always like this, that would explain why Veronica never dates,” Christina said, standing. “I need coffee. Oh, and Maya is under the impression you two are studying later, but I’m guessing that’s not gonna happen.”

She held out her hand to Logan. “It was very interesting meeting you. You got Veronica to flake on Piz _and_ her study group. I’m impressed.” And with that, Christina was gone.

Logan tossed his cup and the empty pastry box into the trash can, and for a while they just watched the people passing by. When nearby storefronts began opening for business, he turned to her.

“Look, we should probably talk about whatever this is before we go any further. I haven’t had my wings for very long, and I’ve still got four more years of active duty. If I’m not in the middle of the ocean somewhere, I’m stationed in San Diego, at least for now,” he said, haltingly. “So I’m not really around much. But ...”

The last several hours had been so amazing and surreal she hadn’t even stopped to consider the ramifications of getting involved with Logan Echolls. He’d always been dangerous territory for her, and while they were great together, they’d always ended in disaster.

Veronica wasn’t sure if his intent was to wriggle out of committing to anything serious, or just warn her about what she’d be getting into if they plunged ahead. But she decided to nip any talk of a relationship in the bud.

“... Relax, Logan - I’m not expecting a proposal.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

But Veronica continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “We’re both consenting adults. Let’s just enjoy it for what it is - strictly a one-time thing. This way, we’ll always have Fleet Week.”

Logan searched her face for several long moments. “This is a new side of you.”

“You like?”

He lifted his hand to her face. “Veronica, I like all your sides - especially the prickly ones.”

It was those moments that made it so very hard for Veronica to resist Logan’s pull.

Last night, she’d discovered the sexual attraction between them hadn’t diminished over the years, and this morning she found herself fighting a whole different allure that was just as magnetic - and a lot more hazardous.

“What time do we have to check out of the hotel?” she asked, suddenly all business.

“We don’t, at least not until noon tomorrow.”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “You booked the room for _two_ nights? You were certainly confident.”

“ _Or_ the suite has a two-night minimum,” he said, smiling at her clipped “oh.”

They spent the day playing tourist, starting with riding the elevator all the way to the top of the Empire State Building, where a woman took a picture of them against a backdrop of the city where the Hudson River flowed into the bay.

Later, they had dim sum in Chinatown and walked off the meal of dumplings and noodles with a stroll through Central Park. Hand in hand, they wandered across Gapstow Bridge, stopping in the middle to admire the tranquil beauty. When Logan kissed her, she’d gripped his strong shoulders and gasped, “Shall we go back to the hotel?”

But he pulled away, grinning. “Actually, how far are we from Serendipity?”

“You want ice cream - now?” she asked, eyebrows arching as he nodded. “Let me get this straight, you’re choosing ice cream over sex.”

“I’m surprised you’re resisting.”

“Man, I must be slipping,” she said, threading her fingers through his. “Serendipitously, Serendipity is close. Come on, it’s this way.”

“Excellent vocabulary. They teach you that at Stanford?”

Once they were seated at a small cafe table, Logan looked around the old-fashioned ice-cream parlor, taking in the stained-glass decor and collection of Tiffany-style lamps. “I haven’t been here since I was a kid,” he told her, digging into their “Can’t Say No” Sundae. “My mom used to take me whenever we were in town for one of Aaron’s premieres.”

She didn’t ask if Aaron had ever joined them. Logan wouldn’t have bothered making the pilgrimage if he had.

When they’d devoured the last bit of fudge-soaked banana, he motioned for the waiter and asked for their bill. “It’s already been taken care of, sir,” he said, indicating a table on the other side of the crowded dining room.

They looked, and at first Veronica thought he was pointing to the party of giggling, twenty-something girls - typical fare for celebrity groupies. Logan appeared to assume the same because she felt his body tense beside her. But the girls didn’t so much as look their way, and then Veronica saw the elegant, white-haired woman in a black Chanel suit, sitting in a booth with her grandson smiling at them.

“Little older than your usual fans,” Veronica teased as the woman and boy collected their things and made their way over.

“I just wanted to thank you for your service, young man,” the woman said. “Seeing you and your lovely friend reminded me of my husband. He was in the Navy, too.”

Veronica grinned as she saw pink color his cheeks. Precious little made Logan Echolls blush.

“Well, that was an unexpectedly pleasant surprise,” she said when they left, reaching out to put her hand on his.

He looked at her and raised her hand to his lips. “Yeah, it was,” he replied softly, and she got the distinct feeling he meant more than the woman’s kind tribute.

They were walking back towards the park, when he turned to her and said, “Let’s go out to dinner.”

Veronica frowned. “It’s not even 4 o’clock.”

“Not now. I thought we could do New York up right. You know, get dressed up, go to one of those impossible-to-get-in restaurants this place is so famous for.”

She suddenly remembered their last fancy dinner date that never happened, her lips tightening into a thin line as Madison Sinclair’s face popped into her thoughts. She gave herself a mental shake. Veronica wasn’t going to let Madison ruin her fling.

Sensing her hesitation, Logan filled the silence. “Or not. You know, we can call it a day if you have to be somewhere, or …”

“... No. It’s not that. I’m just not dressed for a night on the town. I don’t even have any makeup.”

Logan shrugged. “You look great. There’s time, we could go shopping.”

“I can’t afford anything, and I’m not going to let you spend another cent. That suite must’ve cost the moon.”

He stopped, circling her waist and pulling her to him. “Totally worth every penny.”

They settled for taking the subway back to her Brooklyn apartment. By then, rush hour commuters packed every car, and they had to stand, clinging to the rail, their bodies gently swaying with the train’s motion. When Veronica stumbled as more passengers got on, Logan’s arm shot out to steady her, and for rest of the ride it remained securely around her waist.

It wasn’t long before Veronica was leading him into the five-story, brick apartment building on Sterling Street where she’d lived for nearly two years. The third-floor unit she shared with Christina was small, but clean and bright with hardwood floors and cheaply renovated galley-style kitchen. The miniscule living area was furnished with a short Ikea loveseat flanked by two end tables on one wall and a flat screen tv on a narrow media table on the other.

They were alone, so Veronica led him by the hand into her room, kicking the door closed behind them and pushing him onto the bed.

**********

She was in the kitchen pouring two glasses of water a little while later, when her phone chimed from the counter. She checked the screen and saw she’d missed a call while she and Logan had been in the bedroom.

“Hey, Veronica, sorry we missed each other earlier.” Piz sounded upbeat and playful even over voicemail. “Look, I feel like we’ve been dancing around this for a while, so I’m just gonna man up: Will you go out to dinner with me? I know this great Italian place in Brooklyn that you’d love. Oh, and just in case I wasn’t clear, this would be a date.”

Piz had spectacularly bad timing.

Veronica had no idea how she’d answer him now, but if he’d called even a day earlier, she probably would have agreed to at least one date. Piz was fun and sweet, and being with him was easy, simple. But a chance encounter in a bar had changed everything.

Logan was like a drug she couldn’t resist. Even though the high would be long gone by tomorrow, detox would make dating anyone else …. disappointing, at least for the immediate future, and if she hadn’t gotten clean of him after almost seven years then maybe she was more like her mother than she’d realized.

Then again, if Leanne hadn’t let Jake Kane get away, if she’d fought harder for him, maybe her life would’ve been happier.

Veronica deleted the voicemail and left her phone on the counter as she headed down the hall carrying their water. Pushing open the door, she was mildly surprised to find him sprawled on his stomach, clad only in boxers, fast asleep and snoring lightly. She quietly placed his glass on the nightstand next to him and bent to kiss him on the cheek, slipping out to shower and get ready for their date.

When she returned 20 minutes later, he was awake and standing by the bed, pulling on his white t-shirt. He looked up, smiling as she entered the room. Wordlessly, she wrapped her arms around his waist and held him tight, breathing in his scent.

“I missed you,” she whispered, pressing her cheek against the soft cotton of his shirt.

He chuckled. “I was only asleep for half an hour,” he said. “But I’m all rested …”

“...No, I meant …”

Logan pulled away, searching her face, his eyes worried. “Veronica, are you okay?”

She nodded, forcing her mouth into a broad smile. “Yeah, I should’ve taken a nap, too.” Moving out of his reach, she bent to retrieve Logan’s shirt and pants from the floor, holding them out to him.

He stared at her for a moment, before taking the wrinkled clothes. “Hey, can I borrow your iron?”

She stopped straightening her bedcovers and raised an eyebrow. “Uh, sure. What are you going to do with it?”

“I was thinking of making a grilled cheese sandwich,” he replied, kneeling on the floor to search for his shoes. “I’m going to iron my uniform, what else?”

A short laugh escaped her lips. “You say that like you’ve done it before.”

His head reappeared from beneath the bed. “That’s because I _have._ The Navy is surprisingly down on wrinkles, and believe it or not, the _Truman_ doesn’t offer laundry services.”

Veronica folded her arms, and fixed him with a hard stare. “You’ve been holding out on me, lieutenant. What other secret talents are you hiding?”

He considered a moment. “I can make pretty decent carnitas and ….”

“... You _cook_?”

“Yeah, well Rhode Island doesn’t exactly have the best Mexican food and I was craving tacos.”

“Marry me, and be my house husband,” she blurted.

Logan wraggled his brows, grinning. “That’s what all the girls say.”

“I’ll bet they do,” Veronica replied, rolling her eyes.

“So… the iron?”

Tightening her robe, she led him into the kitchen and showed him the narrow cupboard that was actually a built-in ironing board with a shelf just big enough for a small iron. She busied herself with washing their glasses but secretly watched as he filled the water reservoir then removed his ribbons and wings. When the iron was hot, he carefully ran it over the white shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles. He replaced the pins, then repeated the process on his pants.

“I never would’ve believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes,” she said. “Hey, we should probably make reservations somewhere …”

“Already did,” Logan answered, neatly folding his freshly pressed uniform. “The hotel concierge got us a table at Le Bernadin, but not until 9:30. Is that okay?”

She glanced at the chrome wall clock above the sink. It was barely 5:30, which gave her time to get ready and catch up on some work. “That sounds perfect. I’ve always wanted to go there.”

Logan looked away and ducked his head. “Uh, there’s more. A few of my buddies want us to meet them for drinks. They’ve been wondering where I’ve been. I kinda just disappeared. But we don’t have …”

“... That sounds nice,” she replied quickly, with a reassuring smile.

They retreated back to her room, where Logan lounged on the bed reading her worn copy of “The Painted Veil” while she worked at her desk. She should’ve been studying for her torts class, but her eyes kept wandering to the pile of photos Feinman had asked her to label and catalog. Finally, she shut her laptop and reached for the file.

A series of pictures taken at the crime scene showed a typical, teenaged girl’s bedroom - a bulletin board dotted with photos, concert tickets and reminder notes hung above a desk, and what wallspace wasn’t covered with posters had shelves with trophies, more framed photos and books. Veronica recalled several of the books also had blank post-it notes tucked inside as if Beth was marking certain passages.

Many of the photos in her file were ones taken off the bulletin board. In her junior prom picture taken a year before she died, Beth wore a flesh-toned dress with a plunging neckline, her blond hair swept into a sleek bun. She was grinning mischievously as her then-boyfriend Jason embraced her from behind.

“Jesus,” Logan breathed. “She could be Lilly’s sister. Who is she?”

Veronica started, quickly replacing the photo and closing the file. “Beth Mason. She was killed in her parents’ home last year and my professor is defending her ex-boyfriend. You don’t know him, do you? Jason Murdoch?”

Logan raised his brows. “Why? You think all us bad boys accused of murder formed a club?”

“No, sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking,” she answering, shaking her head. “His dad is some kind of media mogul, rubs shoulders with all kinds of Hollywood jet-setters. I guess I thought maybe your dad …”

“Are you talking about Roger Murdoch? He must be, what, in his 70s? That’s his kid?”

“So you do know him?”

“Not the son, but he went to a couple of my parents’ parties. Can’t say we were ever properly introduced. What happened to the girl?”

Veronica told him only what had been reported by the press. “I don’t know, something just seems off. I feel like we’re missing something.”

“Let me guess. You think the boyfriend is guilty and you don’t like helping the attorney who’s trying to get him off.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure he didn’t do it. You should’ve seen him talk about her, Logan. I think he really loved her.”

He was tactful enough not to state the obvious: Jason may have loved Beth, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t her killer. “If he’s innocent, then you’re playing for the good guys. Are you sure you’re not bothered by the similarities to Lilly.”

She stared at him. “I think you’re right,” she said, slowly. “ _That’s_ exactly what’s been bugging me. Jason has always been the only suspect, and they’d been broken up for months.

“Beth was pretty and outgoing, and if she was really anything like Lilly, then investigators should have found evidence of other people in her life. So far, everything makes it seem like she went to school, played the piano, babysat. It’s all too …”

“...Neat?” Logan supplied. “No one knew about Weevil or my dad until you figured it out.”

Veronica nodded slowly. “You know, the police found one of those secret spy pens in Jason’s things. What if it was Beth’s?”

“You said she babysat, right? After Aaron was arrested, I kept wondering how it happened, how they’d gotten together, because as far as I knew, they’d never been alone. Then I remembered she’d worked for him one summer, cataloged his press clippings or some stupid shit.”

As she mulled over Logan’s bit of information, she absently began flipping through the photos again and he peered over her shoulder.

“What’s with the post-its?” he asked.

“Nothing. They’re blank. She just used them as bookmarks, I think.”

“You sure they’re blank? Lilly used to play around with invisible ink. It was how she’d pass risque notes to me in class. I found a few in Aaron’s study after he was arrested.”

Veronica stared at him. “How come I didn’t know about it? It never came up at his trial.”

“The DA said there was no way to prove she’d written them to my dad and not me,” Logan shrugged. “And I’m pretty sure she just used it to communicate with the guys she hooked up with. So unless you want to confess to a little girl-on-girl action …”

Veronica shoved him, and he laughed. “So tell me how this invisible ink worked,” she said, all business again.

“I thought you said you didn’t do this kind of thing anymore.”

She held his gaze. “I don’t.”

“You sure about that?” he said, softly.

“No.” It was the first time Veronica voiced out loud her growing doubts about law school and quitting the P.I. biz. The words poured out of her before she could edit herself. How she’d begun to hate the dry law tomes and equally dusty professors, and how she was slowly realizing it was the challenge of law school more than the actual law itself she enjoyed.

Logan just listened. Finally, when she was done, he said, “When I heard you were in law school, I assumed you were going into criminal law. I just never saw you as a corporate attorney. It’s not in your DNA, and I mean that in a good way.

“And even though you’d be a pretty fucking awesome prosecutor, I’ve always pictured you working with your dad.”

She shook her head. “My dad lost the election because of me. He can’t do the thing he loves most because of what I did,” she whispered, trying not to let her voice quaver.

Logan touched her face. “Veronica, you’re the thing he loves most.”

She flattened one palm on his chest. “I’m really glad we ran into each other.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Veronica spent the next several minutes composing an email to her professor, while Logan showered. She hit send and went to look in her closet for something to wear. As soon as she saw the dress she’d bought years ago, but had never worn, she knew it was perfect. She draped it over her chair just as Logan reappeared, one of her towels cinched around his trim waist, and she gulped.

“Uh, your uniform is hanging on the back of the door. I’m off to primp,” she said, heading into the bathroom.

Just as she had the evening before, she pulled her hair into a ponytail, but this time she’d gone through the trouble of digging out her curling iron to create soft waves. She painstakingly applied makeup - glittery blue eyeshadow, her favorite pale pink lipgloss and even mascara - before returning to her room.

She could hear Logan watching TV in the living room, and she quickly slid into her dress. It was a blush-colored satin slip dress with tiny pleats that made it shimmer in the light. Veronica perused her jewelry box, reaching for a long strand of fake pearls, when her eyes fell on the necklace Lilly had given her. Sentiment won out and she abandoned the pearls. When the clasp was securely fastened, she dug in her drawer until her fingers found what she was looking for. She opened the small, blue box and put on the star-shaped earrings studded with tiny diamonds, a birthday gift from Logan.

Grabbing a small, beaded purse, she joined him the living room. His eyes widened appreciatively, and he stood to kiss her cheek, whispering in her ear, “You look beautiful.”

She was about to return the compliment - because seriously, he’d been making her body pulse since that first moment in the bar - when Christina burst through the door just as both their phones began beeping furiously.

“The shit has hit the fan,” Christina said, looking them up and down. “Wow, you two look great - but you _might_ want to stay in.”

She opened a tablet and scrolled to a video clip on the TMZ web site then hit play. A handful of so-called reporters were gathered around a series of office cubicles, apparently led by an older man who lounged over the top of a desk partition sipping from a slurpee.

They were all raptly listening to a twenty-something male with long, shaggy hair dressed in board shorts.  He’d received a tip that Logan Echolls’ name was on a VIP list for Bonnie DeVille’s _Good Morning America_ concert in the park that day.

Veronica could feel Logan tense beside her as the reporter reminded the group that he was the son of the dead Hollywood actor Aaron Echolls and summarized his high school exploits, run-ins with the law and hard-partying. He ended with, _“Oh, and his mom, actress Lynn Echolls, killed herself by jumping off a bridge when he was still in high school.”_

It was like a live version of _Tinseltown Diaries_ playing out right before their eyes. Someone’s phone continued to ring, and they just ignored it.

 _“For a while it seemed Hollywood had one less bad boy. He’d just faded away into obscurity,  but it turns out he’s a pilot in the U.S. Navy. He’s just been flying under the radar until now,”_ the boy-reporter quipped.

 _“But apparently, he’s still quite the player, because our tipster told us he and Bonnie hooked up last year, and they’ve been secretly dating ever since. Then on the very day he was at her concert, he was photographed in another part of Central Park with_ this _unknown blonde.”_

Veronica watched in dread as a series of slightly grainy photos appeared on the screen. They were walking arm in arm along a pathway leading to Gapstow Bridge, her low-cut silk blouse and heels a dead giveaway she was still wearing the previous night’s clothes.

She knew the worst was yet to come, but she couldn’t look away. For several, long seconds, the camera lingered on one last photo of them locked in a steamy kiss.

 _“Looks like this officer is no gentleman,”_ the old guy said _. “Anyone know who the girl is?”_

 _“Well, it’s Fleet Week, and panties do tend to go flying … ”_ said a brunette, holding an extra-large coffee drink.

She stared in mute horror, dimly aware of Christina turning off the tablet.

“Maybe no one recognized you,” her roommate offered helpfully, as Veronica’s phone chirped on the table. “Never mind.”

“ _Fuck!”_ Logan began pacing in front of the couch, running his hands through his cropped hair. He looked like he wanted to punch something - or someone. “Veronica, I’m _so_ sorry. How big of a problem is this going to be for you?”

Still stunned, she shook her head. “It won’t be. I’ll definitely have some explaining to do, but it’ll be a lot worse for you. This won’t affect your job, will it?”

He visibly relaxed, clearly relieved she wasn’t more upset. “No, I don’t think so, but I should call in. Wouldn’t want to miss my weekly stern lecture,” he grumbled, checking his phone. “My CO has already called me twice. This should be fun.”

“Use my room,” Veronica told him. Moments later, they could hear Logan’s voice through the paper thin walls, though not enough to hear what was being said. There were several “Yes, sirs” and “ No, sirs.” At one point he raised his voice to say, “I’ve known her for years, sir.”

He emerged looking slightly haggard and more than a little pissed. “Do you have to go?” Veronica asked, warily as he sank down beside her on the couch.

“No,” came the clipped response. He took a deep breath, then shook his head. “Sorry…I don’t have to go. I just have to report back to the ship at 0800 hours sharp, or I’ll be cleaning heads, uh bathrooms, for a month.

“But Christina’s right - the paparazzi will be on the prowl. You still want to go out in public with me?”

She reached up, rubbing gentle circles in the space between his shoulders, until the tension there began to ease.  “I’m wearing a dress. I curled my hair and put on makeup. You’d better take me out, because this … ” She waved her arm down the length of her body with a flourish. “...  needs to be wined and dined.”

He grinned in spite of himself. “Ok, but you’ve been warned.”

They agreed the subway wasn’t a good idea given the circumstances, so they used Uber for the return trip into the city instead. A white Lexus sedan pulled up in front of the apartment building shortly after 7:30.

Veronica’s phone rang just as they crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, and she answered it when she saw it was Mac.

“I’m seriously questioning your choice in Facebook friends, right now,” she said without preamble.

“I guess I know what Madison’s cryptic comment was all about. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I just found out yesterday. You, on the other hand, are hanging out in cyberspace with Dick Casablancas. Snooping 101, Mac. Have you learned nothing from me?”

Mac laughed. “We can talk about my social network after we talk about _yours_ , which suddenly got infinitely more interesting.”

“I can’t really talk right now, we’re about to go out. But I’ll call you soon. Do me a favor and peel Wallace off the ceiling?”

They said their goodbyes and Veronica hung up, turning off the ringer, before slipping her phone back into her bag. Ten minutes later, the driver let them off in front of an English-style pub a few blocks from Le Bernadin. They made their way inside, which was packed with military personnel.

Logan quickly spotted his friends and led Veronica to a high-backed wooden booth in the corner occupied by three sailors wearing uniforms identical to Logan’s. They made way for the newcomers, and Logan made the introductions.

Veronica slid in next to a very tall, very broad and very blond man named Gibson, and Logan sat beside her.

“So Mouth, what’s new with you?” A young Asian man with a gentle Southern drawl asked, grinning from ear to ear. “Go for any walks in the park, lately?”

To Veronica’s surprise, Logan endured the teasing and mild ribbing from his shipmates good-naturedly, and she began to relax as their drinks were served.

“Mouth?” she asked. “Anyone care to explain?”

“It’s nothing dirty, ma’am,” assured Gibson, who turned out to be a Virginia farm boy. “Echolls just has a habit of mouthing off to his COs.”

Veronica spent the next hour nursing her drink and listening to his shipmates’ Fleet Week tales. After a while, an ensign named Taylor turned to her.

“Ok, I have got to know: What did Mouth say to you at the bar last night?” he asked. “One minute he was walking over to you, and the next you were kissing. He’s no slouch with the ladies, but come on.”

Logan burst out laughing, almost choking on his beer. “I totally forgot about the bet. That explains all the texts.” Veronica raised her brows expectantly, and he grinned. “We had a little wager: who could get …”

“... Laid first?” she asked teasingly.

“No. _Kissed_.”

“Yeah, and we’d only been there for like five minutes when Mouth made a beeline for you,” Taylor said. “So, come on … help a sailor out. What did he say?”

“Guys, I’ve known Veronica since we were 12. We used to date, and I hadn’t seen her in years.”

Chang slapped his hand on the table. “Thank the Lord for that. You owe me twenty bucks, Echolls.”

Shortly before 9 o’clock, Logan stood and they made their goodbyes. He helped Veronica out of the booth, and they started to walk away when a dark-haired man holding a bottle of beer stopped abruptly at their table.

“Hey I know you. You’re that famous kid, the one dating Bonnie DeVille. I gotta get a picture,” he said, fumbling in his pocket for a phone.

Logan scowled, and turned his back to the man, grasping Veronica’s hand to lead her out of the pub. The man suddenly reached out and grabbed her arm. “You’re the girl the Echolls kid is screwing, right? I bet I can get good money …”

“Touch her again and I will break your fucking hand.” Logan was immediately in the man’s face, his chilling growl so low Veronica barely heard him.

Tugging hard on his arm, she tried to pull him away, but he wouldn’t budge. “Logan, don’t …” she said, warningly. The man didn’t back down, either, and just as she saw him raise a hand, Chang insinuated himself between them without so much as touching the other guy.

Logan’s shipmate was shorter than the drunk, but his body language made it clear he wasn’t to be messed with. The other sailors quickly flanked Chang, and Logan slowly eased, as his friends effectively created a wall shielding them from the enemy.

Chang didn’t even blink. “We got this, Mouth. You go enjoy your dinner. It was a pleasure meeting you, ma’am.”

Veronica could’ve kissed all three of them.

She grabbed Logan’s hand and pulled him out of the pub before they could attract any more unwanted attention. Once outside, he kicked an empty can on the sidewalk and cursing.

“Goddamn it! I thought I was done with all that stupid, tabloid _bullshit_.”

Veronica stepped onto the street, raised her arm and expertly hailed a cab, shoving Logan inside. It was an easy walk to Le Bernadin, but she wanted to get as much distance as they could as quickly as possible and it wasn’t happening in strappy heels.

They rode in silence, his face stoney in the glare of the city streetlights. The cab pulled up to the restaurant a half-hour before their reservation. Logan paid the cabbie, and they got out. “It’s still early,” she said, slipping her hand into his. “Let’s walk.”

They said nothing for the first block, strolling past hotels and fancy restaurants. “Veronica, I’m sorry …”

“You have to be smart,” she interrupted, stopping and standing in front of him. “You can’t go around threatening bodily harm to every asshole with a phone.”

“I know, and I was walking away. But he never should’ve said that about you.”

She shook her head, rolling her eyes with a sigh. Taking a step closer, she put her hands on his chest. “There’s something admirable - and I’ll admit seriously hot - about your default chivalry. But here’s a news flash: You _are_ screwing me, Logan.”

“It’s not like that and you know it! Besides, it’s no one’s business but ours.”

“You’re right. And as long as we don’t draw any more attention to ourselves, eventually no one’s gonna care who’s screwing who.”

Logan gave her a skeptical look, but he said nothing. She kissed him lightly, then took his hand again. “Come on, let’s see if this joint’s really worth all those Michelin stars.”

By the time they were seated at a quiet table for two, he had begun to relax again. They sipped wine, chatting amiably about nothing in particular, and before long he was smiling again, too.

Their waiter served the first course, and when he cleared their plates, they both agreed the restaurant’s accolades were well-deserved. Much later, Veronica moaned in pleasure as she bit into a Peruvian chocolate cake, and Logan laughed, pushing his own plate to her side of the table.

It was late when they left the restaurant. Holding hands, they walked aimlessly until they reached the park. As they passed a horse and carriage, Logan stopped to speak with the driver. “Come on. Isn’t this what people do in New York City?” he said, holding out his hand.

“It’s what _tourists_ do in New York City,” she replied, but took his hand, anyway.

She settled next to him, tucked in the nook of his arm, and they rode through Central Park in companionable silence. Later, at the hotel, he made love to her slowly and tenderly, until they fell asleep their limbs entwined.

She woke with a start to find him sitting on his side of the bed. His hair was still damp from a shower and he was buttoning his shirt. Covering herself with a sheet, she crawled to him and hugged him from behind.

“Wait. Don’t go,” she whispered, and he turned, kissing her hungrily.

When he pulled away, he took a deep breath. “Look, I know neither of us planned for this to happen, and our timing sucks, but it doesn’t feel like a one-time thing to me. It feels like it’s…”

“Fate?”

“Yeah, maybe,” he replied, his brown eyes serious.

“Because we’re epic.”  
“What?”

Veronica smiled. “It’s nothing. So what you’re saying is, you want more than mind-blowing sex and a casual fling? Fly boys these days - you want it all.”

“You were never a casual fling to me, Veronica, but yeah …” Logan smiled. “I want to hang at the mall, hold hands. I want all of you - not just a few passing moments.”

Veronica hesitated, suddenly panic-stricken. It had been barely 24 hours, and already Logan had thrown her carefully ordered world into a tailspin. It was an impossible situation: she was in law school here in New York, and he would be somewhere in the Persian Gulf. She knew better than anyone how messy and complicated life with Logan was under the best of circumstances, let alone with thousands of miles between them.

She pulled away, striving to keep her tone light and joking. “Hey, don’t knock it. I had multiple ‘passing moments,’ and they were amazing.”

Logan stared at her for a moment, then looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. He read her perfectly as always. “Yeah, okay. I gotta go, or my CO will have my head.” He kissed her temple, and stood. “Take care, Veronica.”

“You, too,” she said, softly. “I mean it, Logan. Remember - you promised.”

It took him a moment, but finally he smiled. “I’ll remember.” And then he was gone.

Veronica’s doubts began the moment the door clicked shut, but she was seized with indecision. She began searching for her clothes to distract herself, then her phone, her heart sinking as she realized they’d never exchanged information. She was pulling on a robe, when her phone beeped and she quickly opened the text, hoping it was from him. She swallowed her disappointment, when she saw it was from her criminal law professor.

      _Ur tip paid off big time. B sleeping with married playwright babysitting for. NYPD dropping charges. Good work. Ur hired._

A familiar thrill of triumph spread through her. Almost simultaneously, her chest tightened, as she realized she’d made a horrible mistake letting Logan go. Even without him in her life and living 3,000 miles from Neptune, she’d found intrigue and trouble all on her own. It was like he’d said: It was in her DNA.

It was crazy to think she could fall in love with Logan after only 24 hours, but if she were being honest, she’d never really stopped loving him. Sure, Piz was easy, but maybe it was because her feelings for him weren’t a fraction of what she’d always felt for Logan.

Wishing she’d packed an overnight bag, Veronica threw her evening dress back on, grabbed her purse and phone and hurried out the door, strappy heels dangling from her hand. She stepped into her shoes in the elevator, rushing through the lobby to hail a cab. _Where did Logan say his ship was?_ “Pier 91, please,” she told the cabbie. “And can you hurry?”

Ten minutes later, her phone beeped again, but she ignored it as she paid the fare and got out of the cab. She gaped in dismay at the giant aircraft carrier docked by the pier. It was still early, barely a quarter to eight, but already crowds of people were milling around probably waiting for one of the scheduled tours. She scanned the crowd, searching for a tall figure in white, realizing belatedly she was standing in front of a Navy ship, surrounded by men in white.

She threaded her way to the gangplank, hoping she could spot him from higher ground, but by the time she reached the top there was still no Logan. Propelled by the people behind her, she stepped aboard, swiping her eyes. Just as she leaned over the rail, her phone buzzed again and she glanced down to read the single-word message: _Veronica?_

Logan had finally responded to the text she’d sent just hours before running into him at the hotel bar. She’d had the right phone number after all. Quickly, she tapped out a reply: _Yes! Where R U?_

“Right here.”

She whirled, and there he was, standing tall and straight, a bemused smile on his lips. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

Wordlessly, Veronica flung herself at Logan, throwing her arms around his neck and clinging tightly. She felt his arms close around her, and when he buried his face in her hair, whispering her name, she had to blink back tears.

Reluctantly, she let go, tilting her head so she could meet his gaze. “You were right. This is _us,_ Logan. You and me - we’re _never_ going to be a one-time-thing.”

Slowly, he shook his head. “No, we’re not. But it’s not going to be easy.”

Fleetingly, she thought of Piz. “I don’t want easy,” she said, grasping his shirt. “I only want you.”

Logan’s face broke into a grin, and suddenly he was kissing her and twirling them around the flight deck.

They ignored the curious stares from passersby, even the click of cameras and the whoops and catcalls of his squadmates.

Somewhere nearby, Chang shouted teasingly, "Leave it to Mouth to fall in love during Fleet Week."

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive the sappiness, but I couldn't resist giving Logan and Veronica that hero's kiss moment.


End file.
